Just the Stand-In
by sandyfin
Summary: Because a lot happened between the kiss in 7x08 and the wedding in 7x09...
1. Chapter 1

_Good talk. See you tomorrow_.

Jamie stood anchored in the center of his living room long after the slam of his front door gave way to silence. Eddie's farewell echoed in his head as he realized he'd been tonguing the last remnants of her taste off his lower lip.

Shit.

He'd thought about what it would be like to kiss Eddie again—many times, in fact, though he didn't like to admit it. Usually he focused on actually _kissing_ her. Other times he replayed his own reaction to that first time outside her apartment, and he swore he'd do things differently if he ever got the chance.

Seriously— _you should get inside_? He still hated himself for that, even two and a half years later. He considered himself lucky that Eddie had only mentioned that night a couple times since. And she'd never given him shit about his less-than-stellar reaction to the whole thing. He figured it wasn't one of her proudest moments either, and they'd sort of silently agreed to squash that whole incident into the depths of their deepest, darkest memories.

Hadn't they?

God, she was a pain in the ass. He worked so hard to keep their partnership professional, their friendship platonic—and she just _showed up_ tonight to admit her jealousy, lay out her feelings, tease him with that damn mouth of hers, and then _leave_?

He couldn't even find room in his brain to be a little smug that his jealousy quips had been right. The last five minutes left him with way too much else to process.

Their relationship was supposed to be simple. They were work partners. Full stop. And yet Jamie found himself craving her company off the job as much as on it. They rarely went a full day without seeing each other, even on their days off. For two years he'd chalked it up to the fact that they were best friends, and he thought he'd done a pretty good job of convincing himself that was _all_ they were.

But Eddie's confession, and that kiss, had him questioning all that.

Letting out a loud sigh, Jamie made his way to the couch and plopped heavily onto the cushions. The world felt different now. _I have feelings for you_. Those five words shattered the safe little cocoon he'd built for himself. Years' worth of repressed feelings exploded their way to the surface, fighting past that mental wall that held them at bay, and he could feel the control slipping out of his reach.

He saw two options.

He could ignore everything that had just happened, accept Eddie's explanation for why she'd been so grumpy lately, and leave it alone. They would move on, business as usual. It might take him a day or two to rebuild that wall that Eddie had just torn down, but he'd make it happen. He'd file tonight right on top of their first kiss, another indiscretion that they'd laugh about down the road. They couldn't blame it on alcohol this time but he knew Eddie well enough to understand that jealousy lowered her inhibitions in a similar way. He'd graciously let her blame it on the shock of finding Tara at his apartment and then things could go back to normal.

But did he _want_ things to go back to normal? He'd said so, sure, just like Eddie did. They didn't want to screw up their partnership. Done. Decision made. But that was before she strode across his apartment and pulled him in by the back of the neck to meet her kiss. That detail—everything she said, wordlessly, against his lips—made that decision feel like a lie.

That wasn't a kiss for a partner or a friend.

What it came down to was that Eddie's reaction to Tara kind of thrilled him. But still, he hesitated about the possibilities there. Could they ever move past partnership, friendship? Could they develop a new normal, one in which Jamie didn't have to torture himself suppressing his innermost thoughts about Eddie?

But that would be torture in itself, riding with a different partner. He really didn't think he could focus on his job if Eddie wasn't by his side. It wasn't just that tours would be dull and boring without the little blonde ball of enthusiasm to entertain him from the passenger seat—he had been fiercely protective of her since their very first tour. What started as a natural, nonspecific reaction to losing his last partner quickly grew into something particular to Eddie, something stronger that he couldn't quite identify. He knew she was a capable cop, but he wasn't ready to give up the important role he held in her professional life, even if it came with a tradeoff of the personal variety.

It was the worst catch-22 he could imagine. The solution hadn't gotten any clearer in all the time he'd wrestled with it. And tonight Eddie certainly hadn't helped.

Jamie's brain looped in fast, agonizing circles and he couldn't get a grip on himself long enough to really think. He wrenched himself off the couch, grabbed a beer, and turned on the TV in an attempt to drown out his own thoughts. Maybe later, when he couldn't still feel the ghost of Eddie's fingertips grazing along the hairline at the back of his neck, he'd be able to figure all this out. But until then, he'd drink.

* * *

"They're not mine, dude!"

"You hear that, partner?" Eddie smirked. "The drugs aren't his. Watch your head, _dude_." She caught Jamie's eye over the roof of the car as she reached up to the kid's head to tuck him into the backseat.

"Of course they're not his," Jamie said when Eddie joined him in the front seat. "They belong to his friend, weren't you listening?"

"They do!" the kid wailed, clearly not picking up on the sarcasm. "I was holding them—"

"He was just _holding_ them!" Eddie mocked. "No worries! We'll just tell the DA and you'll get all fixed up. No problem!"

"Really?" the kid squeaked hopefully.

"No, genius!" Eddie snapped. "We found felony weight cocaine in your pocket when we picked you up for credit card fraud—you're in big trouble."

"I told you! The coke isn't mine!"

"We found it _in your pocket_." Jamie shot Eddie a look of exasperated amusement before turning back to the front and merging into traffic.

"Come on, that's a mute point. It's not mine!"

Eddie twisted in her seat so she could see their passenger. "A _mute_ point?"

The kid rolled his eyes and his skinny, acne-scarred face went slack in annoyance. "Yeah, you know, a mute point. Like, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because the drugs aren't mine!"

"Okay, first of all," Eddie groaned, "we found them on you. Doesn't matter whose they are if they were in your possession. And second—the phrase is moo point. Moo, as in a cow's opinion. Not mute."

Jamie's eyebrows knitted together as he glanced at her over the console. She quirked one corner of her mouth at him as the lanky kid started whining again.

"Moo point? That doesn't make any sense."

"It makes more sense than mute. A cow's opinion doesn't matter," Eddie continued. "So you say it's a moo point."

"Huh," the kid said, as if he was considering her argument. He arched an eyebrow at Jamie in the mirror. "You sure it's not mute?"

"I am sure it's not mute," Jamie offered.

"And you know, he went to Harvard," Eddie said.

Jamie saw the kid's eyes widen as he cursed. "You guys. You gotta let me go," he said. "I'm on the track team at Wagner. If they find out about this I'll lose my scholarship! My dad will kill me!"

Eddie let out a dark laugh. "Losing your scholarship is going to be the least of your problems. Shoulda thought of that before you stole your boss's credit card."

"She gave it to me! I didn't steal it!"

"She gave it to you to buy coffee for the office, not to spend five thousand dollars on electronics for your apartment," Jamie pointed out.

"She never asked for it back!"

"You know what that is, kid?" Eddie asked. "That is a moo point."

She turned around in her seat so she faced the front again, catching Jamie's eye meaningfully as she did. He could tell he was missing something but he couldn't get past Eddie's wrongness about the phrase _moot point_.

Before he could rib her for it, though, their passenger started griping again. He begged and complained the entire trip back to the 12th without giving Jamie and Eddie much chance to inform him that the more he blabbed, the worse he made things for himself. It wasn't until they finished processing the collar and headed back out to the RMP that he finally got the chance.

"You know," he said. "It's moot point. Not moo."

Eddie choked out a laugh and set her coffee on top of the car so she could open the door. "Tell me you're not serious."

"Uh…"

" _Friends_? Joey Tribbiani? Moo point? Come on, that doesn't ring a bell?"

"Friends?" Jamie repeated stupidly.

Eddie's jaw dropped and her lips formed a perfect surprised O. She climbed into the car, muttering over her shoulder, "You can't be serious."

Jamie ducked inside too. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Haven't you ever seen _Friends_? The show?"

"Oh, _Friends_!" Jamie exclaimed in recognition. "I've heard of it, yeah, but never watched it."

"Oh my God, Reagan, do you live under a rock? You've never seen _Friends_? Well then, no wonder you didn't get the joke."

"What joke?"

Eddie groaned dramatically. "You didn't think I actually thought it's moo point, did you? Come on, I'm not stupid."

"Is it, like, a reference to the show?" Jamie asked slowly.

"Yes, it's a reference to the show," she sighed, as if it was a huge burden to explain. "The cute but dumb soap opera star says it. He says something is a moo point—it's a cow's opinion so it doesn't matter."

Jamie arched his eyebrows at her decidedly unfunny explanation.

"Ugh, it's hilarious, okay?"

"I'll believe you," Jamie shrugged.

"And it'll be hilarious when that kid meets his lawyer and tries to tell him that it's a moo point that we found the drugs on him," Eddie continued.

"Unless the lawyer hasn't seen _Friends_ either, and just thinks the kid's an idiot."

"The lawyer's probably seen _Friends_. You're the only adult in this city who hasn't."

"No," Jamie scoffed. "I can't be the only one."

"Oh, you are," Eddie assured him. "And you really need to take care of that. You still have my Netflix account, right? It's your homework, Harvard boy—go home and watch the first six episodes after tour."

"Six episodes? I need to sleep, gear up for another day of putting up with you."

"It's a sitcom, Reagan," Eddie teased. "The episodes are like twenty minutes long. Get over yourself."

"Hey, that's two hours I could be—" Jamie started, but his phone buzzed loudly in the console. "Who is it?"

Eddie grabbed his phone and read the screen. "Erin. You want me to open it?"

"Go for it."

Eddie typed in Jamie's passcode and read aloud. "'Looks like my trial will drag on longer than expected. I don't think I'll be able to make the wedding.' Okay, what's this about?"

"She's the one trying that Wall Street banker shooting," Jamie explained. "Closing arguments were supposed to be Friday but sometimes that gets pushed back."

"No, no, no. What wedding?"

"Oh—my friend Paul Rokowski from the academy, he's getting married next week. It's why I requested Wednesday and Thursday off. Didn't I tell you?"

"You requested Wednesday and Thursday off? So it's your fault we're working all weekend?"

Jamie braked at a red light and turned to shrug apologetically. "My bad."

"Who gets married on a Thursday?" Eddie frowned. "And who takes their sister as their plus one to, like, a non-family wedding?"

"Not me, apparently," Jamie said.

"Why not a real date?"

"I don't know," Jamie stammered. "Paul's fiancée used to work for a judge and Erin knows her and—and who else was I supposed to bring?"

"Could've asked Tara," Eddie suggested, a dangerous flash in her eyes.

Jamie rolled his eyes and let his head fall back against the headrest. "Come on, Eddie."

"You have another chance now," she pointed out. "Want me to text her? I'm sure you saved her number…"

"I was helping her out. Nothing happened."

"So what, you're going to show up stag to this wedding, then?"

The light changed and Jamie pretended to focus on driving so he didn't have to answer right away. After last night's conversation he didn't like where this one was heading. "Guess so," he finally said. That seemed like a safe response.

He kept his eyes on the road but he could feel Eddie's gaze boring into him as she let out a long sigh. "Well, what do you want me to say back to your sister?"

"Just tell her it's fine."

A tense silence fell over them as Eddie handled his phone. Until now their tour had gone on as normal, with neither one so much as alluding to what happened last night. Jamie planned to leave it up to Eddie to bring up; she was the one who'd put herself out there and if she didn't want to talk about it anymore, he wouldn't force her. But he couldn't read her today like he normally could, and the weight of it all tugged at him mercilessly.

"Erin wants to know who you're going to find as a stand-in," Eddie murmured a moment later. "She says you need one since you RSVP'd a plus one."

"Right, because I have so many options, and everyone is free to take two days off work with a week's notice," Jamie grumbled.

"I'm not working," Eddie said casually.

Jamie shot her a cautious glance but she focused on his phone without looking up. "I don't know if that's a good idea," he admitted.

She finally met his eyes, a hint of a scowl on her face. "Why not? I'd make a good stand-in."

"That's not what I mean."

"What _do_ you mean, Jamie?"

"I mean—if we're going to stay friends, then we have to just be friends."

"Who says we can't go to a wedding as friends?"

He had an answer—three months ago, when he first got Rokowski's wedding invitation, he'd actually considered asking Eddie to join him. But he'd talked himself out of it. Even then, even before last night, he knew how tough it would be to spend the better part of two days with Eddie without…slipping up. And the idea of slipping up in front of a bunch of cops nauseated him. So he'd opted to avoid that situation altogether.

"It's…" Jamie started, but words escaped him.

"It's what? If it's about what I said, Jamie—I meant it, but we agreed we aren't going to go that way, so… We're adults. I think we can handle going to a wedding as friends."

"It won't be weird?" Jamie managed. "Being around all the romantic wedding stuff?"

"It'll only be weird if you make it weird."

"Why would I make it weird? I won't make it weird."

"You're being weird right now."

"Am not."

"You are!" she accused through a giggle. "Look, Erin's right. It'd be rude to show up without a date. So do you want me to go or not?"

"Um, if you want."

"Wow, it's hard to turn down that invitation," Eddie goaded.

"I just—I don't want you to feel like you have to."

"I don't! And it's not going to be weird," she promised. "It'll be a good time, Reagan. I'm fun at weddings."

But that was exactly what Jamie was afraid of.


	2. Chapter 2

"So what's the story for this wedding?"

Jamie looked over at Eddie across the console as he swallowed the bite of his turkey sub. "What do you mean, what's the story?"

"What's the story!" she repeated, a quirky smile playing at her lips. "When are we leaving, what are we doing, how nice am I supposed to look…?"

"We'll leave Wednesday around lunch, take the train out," he said. "Rehearsal dinner is that night, wedding Thursday at two, and we'll come home after the reception so you can sleep it off before swing on Friday."

"So _I_ can sleep it off?" Eddie scoffed. "You're the one who'll be hurting the next day. How many times do I have to tell you? I've got the metabolism of—"

"Of a frat boy, I know," Jamie interrupted. The line reminded him of that awkward Monday morning tour after their first kiss, which was _not_ something he needed to think about right now.

"Don't worry," she crooned. "I'll make sure you get home safe."

"Won't be necessary," Jamie said through another bite. "I can take care of myself."

"Sure, until someone says kamikaze shots," Eddie smirked.

Jamie glowered at her. "That was one time. And I wasn't that drunk."

"You got on the wrong train and called me from Harlem, saying someone had moved your building."

"Please, no," Jamie begged.

"Rizzo had to rescue you and drive you all the way home while you puked all over his kid's car seat in the back."

Jamie buried a miserable groan in his sub. "Never again."

Eddie grinned mirthfully. Jamie knew she loved to watch him squirm. "You just stick to your nasty ass dark beer and you'll be fine."

He rolled his eyes at her and returned to the subject of wedding logistics. "Anyway. Erin didn't cancel her hotel room," he said. "So you can take it."

"Hotel, right," Eddie said, like it was the first time she realized they'd be staying in one. "You and Erin booked separate rooms? Are you planning to snag a bridesmaid at the rehearsal dinner?"

"Erin's choice, not mine," Jamie defended, though Eddie hit his sister's reasoning right on the head. Erin took it upon herself to play Jamie's personal matchmaker sometimes, and Jamie knew she would've pushed him to meet someone at this wedding.

"Well, I guess it works out," Eddie shrugged. "Since we're not going, like, _together_."

Jamie cleared his throat. "Yeah."

They ate in silence for a moment until Eddie spoke again. "Hey, did you start _Friends_ like I told you?"

"I watched the first two episodes."

"Oh my God, isn't it great?" Eddie gushed, but she didn't give him time to answer. "So you know who Monica and Chandler are now? Well, they go to Ross's wedding and they end up hooking up in the hotel in London."

"Spoilers much?" Jamie said, gulping down half his bottled water. "So what about it?"

Eddie shrugged again. "Just saying. They were drunk, and they had sex, and they snuck around for a while and then they got married."

Jamie rushed another swallow before his sputtering laugh let any water escape from his mouth. "If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting—"

"I'm not suggesting anything," she said innocently.

"Well, whatever. We're going as friends and I'm not going to get drunk."

"That's too bad, Reagan." She let out a little wistful sigh. "Weddings make me all sentimental."

Jamie didn't take the bait. "Guess you'll have to hit up Mr. Breakfast Sandwich when we get back, then."

Eddie offered a noncommittal groan. "Eh, not _that_ sentimental."

A bloom of hope spread through Jamie's chest before he could stop it. "Oh, is that over?" he asked with feigned innocence, though he'd suspected as much since Eddie hadn't mentioned the guy in a couple of weeks.

"It wasn't really much to start with," she said vaguely.

"Ah. Sorry." It was a lie, though. Eddie didn't seem upset and so he was definitely _not_ sorry—just because he and Eddie were going to stay friends, that didn't mean Jamie had to like seeing her with another guy.

Eddie shrugged him off. "No big deal. You done with that?"

Jamie nodded, balling up the paper from his sandwich as Eddie opened her door. She headed a few paces up the block from their parking spot to toss their trash, and Jamie forced himself to shake his head clear of their last few minutes of conversation so he could focus on the rest of their tour.

* * *

Two days later, Jamie buzzed into Eddie's building and climbed up to her apartment. He waited an endless two minutes outside Eddie's door before it swung open.

He was not prepared for the sight of her as she greeted him wearing nothing but a sky blue towel wrapped loosely under her arms. Any thoughts of complaining about the wait jumbled into nothing. He fought to keep his eyes from wandering along the edges of the fabric that just barely overlapped down the front of her body, as if she hadn't had time to close the towel all the way. One fist held the top corners closed in the center of her chest and her other hand clutched a huge cylindrical hairbrush, which she waved impatiently as Jamie hesitated in her doorway.

"Come in," she quipped. "I'm almost ready."

"Almost ready?" Jamie managed, stepping inside. "Do you know what _almost_ means?"

"Give me ten minutes. Fifteen, tops."

Eddie spun on one foot to retreat to her bathroom, and Jamie caught an eyeful of her bare back where the towel draped low towards her waist. The clasp of her black strapless bra spanned below the damp blonde waves down her back and suddenly Jamie didn't know which was worse, the idea of Eddie naked or the knowledge that she wasn't.

"Close the door, would you?" she called over her shoulder.

He didn't move until she shut herself in the bathroom. Then he drew in a deep, cleansing breath, kicked the door closed, and blew the air out through puffed cheeks as he slumped over to Eddie's couch. Did she know she was killing him? Because she was killing him.

The high, monotone shriek of Eddie's blow dryer filled the apartment as Jamie's gut flooded with regret that he hadn't been able to build that wall back up. Every night since that kiss he'd tried, only to have Eddie smash his progress when he saw her the next morning. It was so much easier to ignore his feelings for her when he could pretend they weren't reciprocated. He couldn't do that anymore, though, and she'd kept him on his toes all week.

Since Monday's tour it had just gotten worse. The insinuation that she'd consider sleeping with him and the confirmation that she was indeed single, followed by a suggestive conversation yesterday after they responded to a domestic and a round of drinks during which Eddie got even flirtier than usual—and now this? It was hopeless.

Every fiber in Jamie's body screamed that this wedding was a bad idea. The tension had built up dangerously close to its breaking point. He had a feeling that the wedding would push things over the edge somehow, and he wasn't sure they'd be able to recover. He should just walk out now, leave Eddie behind, and hope that a couple days apart would be enough to ease the strain.

No, he couldn't do that. As much as he feared the possibilities, Eddie was excited for this. And on some level, he was too. He always enjoyed time with Eddie out of uniform. He'd just be extra mindful of that line they couldn't cross. He would hang back from her if he had to—no flirting, no dancing, nothing. Just friends.

Suddenly he couldn't wait to get out the door. He just wanted to get this whole thing over with before he could second-guess himself more than he already was. Realizing that Eddie had turned off her hair dryer a few minutes ago, he got up from her couch and started to pace behind it.

He checked the time—he'd been waiting for eighteen long minutes now—and adjusted his watch. "You almost ready?"

"Getting dressed," Eddie called back.

"In that case, you need some help?"

"Ha! Stay right where you are, Mr. Reagan."

He turned to continue his lazy path and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Why's it take women so long to get ready?"

"Do you think this is easy?" she snapped. "Who knows how to dress for a midweek Long Island destination wedding?"

"Not sure ten stops out on the LIRR count as a destination."

He heard the bathroom door open behind him. "If I'm staying at a hotel, it's a destination."

Jamie turned at the back of the couch and caught her eye for a second before she closed the door again. "Hey, I mentioned tonight's just the rehearsal dinner, right? You can save the big guns for tomorrow's wedding."

The bathroom door swung all the way open as she marched out. "I did. This is just the appetizer." She stopped in the archway in front of her bathroom and smoothed her hair away from her face. "Uh, what do you think?"

For the second time in twenty minutes, Jamie scrambled for words and tried not to let his eyes betray him. The olive green dress hugged her curves and accentuated her chest and he never wanted to look away.

"I think if I was the bride I'm calling in sick," he managed, once his eyes forced themselves back to her face. "'Cause you're gonna steal the show."

Her smile flashed in her eyes and Jamie felt something clench deep in his gut.

Shit.

Eddie closed the gap between them all the way, stopping only when her strappy gold heels were almost between his feet. Jamie could see every speck of light sparkling off her blue eyes, smell her perfume—

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"You don't look too shabby yourself, Mr. Reagan," she murmured.

He didn't trust himself to hold her gaze at this distance. He could feel his eyes tugging down to her glossy lips, so he tipped his chin to look down at himself instead. "Yeah, thanks."

"I know I'm just the stand-in, and we're going as friends," she continued.

Did she, though? She wasn't exactly acting like it.

"As partners," Jamie offered with a shrug.

"Yeah, just a couple off-duty cops attending a wedding together."

He couldn't help the breathy laugh that pushed out of his chest. "Right, is that okay?"

"Sure." She paused in front of him, her smile growing, until she finally clapped one hand against the side of his waist and sidestepped away. "Let's do this."

Jamie turned in place, trying to remember what it felt like to breathe, as Eddie picked up the garment bag laying over the back of the couch. She shoved her overnight bag back into Jamie's hands and led the way out of her apartment. He swallowed hard and followed her, as ready as he'd ever be to face the next twenty-four hours.

After all, how bad could things get?

* * *

A/N: The answer: bad enough that they wind up in county lock-up and Eddie decides to call Josh again when she gets home, because not even an adorable dance could make up for Jamie's behavior. ;) Hope you enjoyed!


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